Ameriland, Signing Off, LSMFT, Dancing at Roseland

It’s too late to affect this year’s ranking on the Social Progress Index, released Thursday by the Social Progress Imperative, but if the United States wants to improve upon its embarrassing 16th place finish, just ahead of Belgium, Slovenia and Estonia, we have to change the name of our country to something like Ameriland or Unitedland. 

Why? Because the top four countries incorporate “land” in their names—New Zealand, Switzerland, Iceland and Netherlands. Even Ireland finished ahead of us, in 15th place out of the 132 nations rated in the Social Progress Index. Only Poland (32) and Swaziland (108) failed to capitalize on having “land” in their name. 

I will refrain from making any snide comments about America’s less than stellar scores in areas such as health and wellness, plus tolerance and inclusion. You can review the entire list by clicking on this link: http://s3.documentcloud.org/documents/1102138/social-progress-index-results-heat-map.pdf 

Signing Off: With my illegible scrawl of a signature I could have been a modern day ballplayer, according to an article in The NY Times (http://www.nytimes.com/2014/03/29/sports/baseball/in-an-era-of-squiggles-you-cant-tell-baseball-the-players-without-a-handwriting-analyst.html?_r=0). Of course, to get to the major leagues I might have had to upgrade my skills a little (okay, a lot). But I definitely would have made the first string when it came to passing out indecipherable signed baseballs.

I recently looked at my Social Security card, issued when I was 12 or so. Each letter in my signature is carefully drawn. Today, you could barely make out the “M” in my first name. After that it’s a swirl ending with a flourish. 

The major league baseball season has begun. The temple league softball season starts April 13, but I think I will mostly observe the games in my second retirement from the diamond, unless my team is in dire straits of needing a pitcher at the last moment. I’d rather spend time in bed Sunday mornings than kick-starting my aching back out of bed at 7:20. 

LSMFT: When I was growing up, LSMFT was an acronym everyone recognized—Lucky Strike Means Fine Tobacco. Lucky Strike sponsored Your Hit Parade, weekly viewing in the Forseter household. I don’t recall whether Your Hit Parade got cancelled before or after cigarette advertising was banned from the airwaves, but LSMFT vanished from my and most everyone else’s consciousness.

Until now. I keep hearing those initials, followed by the word “productions,” broadcast on public radio. So I went on its Web site and became more confused. Under LSMFT Productions, LTD, the tagline says, “Staging powerful and provocative New York Theater since 1997.” 

Okay, but two paragraphs later it says, “LSMFT Productions was conceived in 2008, as a non-profit organization by Artistic Director and Producer Leo Farley.” So which is it, 1997 or 2008? It’s all very confusing.

Dancing Away: Roseland, the iconic ballroom dance hall just north of Times Square, will close April 7 after entertaining New Yorkers and other hoofers since 1919, the last 58 years at its current location on Broadway at 52nd Street. 

I never made it inside Roseland, but Gilda’s mother did. As a young widow with three children, Rose Barasch often went to dances at Roseland. It was there she met Gus Angelo, her second husband who could assuredly be described as the true love of her life. 

Gus epitomized a “salt of the earth” person. Rarely, if ever, did I see him without a smile on his face. Rose was not a good cook, but he ate her food with gusto, without complaint. He taught Rose to drive when she was in her late 50s. He took her for a lesson one Sunday to the E.J. Korvette’s parking lot off Bay Parkway in Brooklyn. This was before Sunday Blue Laws had been lifted, so the lot was empty except for a solitary police car. A solitary, stationary police car. Which Rose promptly drove Gus’ car into. 

Getting back to Roseland, dancing must have been in Rose’s blood. With boyfriend Moishe, Rose’s mother would dance into her 90s, winning competitions in senior centers. They were a spry, diminutive couple, resembling Hummel figurines as they waltzed across the dance floor. 

Gilda likes to dance, though not with the same passion as her mother and grandmother. But she does enjoy Dancing with the Stars. Does that count?  

TV Fare

I deviated from my normal practice of watching a recorded version of CBS Sunday Morning by watching it live yesterday, meaning I had to sit through (actually lie through, as I was in bed at the time) all the commercials. Fortunately for me (not for CBS), there weren’t too many of those distractions, but I was struck by how often the ads hyped record albums.

It’s not uncommon for Christmas albums to be promoted this time of year, and there were a few of them, but the ads were not restricted to Yuletide offerings. They encompassed a variety of performers and styles, from Eric Clapton to Andrea Bocelli to Susan Boyle, Norah Jones and Bruce Springsteen. There even was one for Jackie Evancho. Jackie Evancho? This 10 year old is apparently a singing sensation, a crossover soprano, who finished second in the fifth season of America’s Got Talent. Who knew? I’ve never really watched more than a minute or two of that show, though Gilda and I do tape and watch Dancing with the Stars (which brings me back to one of my favorite subjects, politics—from the outset I predicted Bristol Palin would go deep into the show because there was no way her mother’s supporters wouldn’t be phoning in their support of our country’s #1 unwed teenage mom. I’m almost tempted to call in myself to vote for anyone but Bristol, who, I must admit, has been rather game but really pretty lame as a dancer).

Back to the record albums. Older people, I believe, are still buying albums, as opposed to downloading from iTunes and the like, so it made sense for the ads to show up on a program that attracts an older demographic (what a relief to see something advertised on a newscast other than a product for incontinence, erectile dysfunction, diabetes management or some other condition of aging). For the next five weeks we all need to inure ourselves to the onslaught of holiday songs, in stores and promoted on TV. Of course, my cheeky comment on this phenomenon is that I’m waiting for a Christmas album from Matisyahu, the Orthodox Jewish reggae singer. That, to me, and not Jackie Evancho, would qualify as a crossover singer.


Maher and Moore: While riding the exercise bike this morning I watched last Friday’s Real Time with Bill Maher—guests included author/director Nora Ephron, documentarian Michael Moore, CNN’s Jessica Yellin (there’s something comical about a political correspondent having a last name that sounds like someone screaming, the typical way politicians talk these days), defeated senatorial candidate U.S. Rep. Joe Sestak, Dem.-PA, and ex-Ark. governor, now perennial GOP presidential candidate, Mike Huckabee.

It’s always comforting, reassuring, to hear famous people express the same thoughts that meander through my mind and sometimes make their way into my blog. For example, Nora Ephron wondered why it is that middle class people don’t understand that millionaires should pay more taxes? Why aren’t they supporting Obama’s push to repeal the Bush tax cuts for the wealthy?

Because of the “lie” they were told that anyone can become a millionaire, said Moore. Just in case they achieve millionairehood, they don’t want to jeopardize their good fortune. I guess that’s why so many people buy lottery tickets...

Broadcast live, Real Time provided a painful memory when viewed Monday. Commenting on Obama’s countenance after the election, Maher said the president “looks like a broken man. He doesn’t look like it’s made him angry. He looks like the Dallas Cowboys, like he’s given up on the season.”

Ouch! Having watched the Cowboys dismantle the NY Giants at the Meadowlands yesterday, I can only say that football, like politics, is a sport with infinite comebacks. Some recent (last 62 years) examples—Truman, Nixon, Clinton and today’s NY Times profile, Dick Armey (http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/15/us/politics/15armey.html?_r=1&hpw).


Comeback Trail: I had studiously avoided the comeback trail being blazed by George W. Bush on all the talk shows with the release of his book, Decision Points. But there he was, our 43rd president, with his coyishly smiling wife, Laura, being interviewed on CBS Sunday Morning and I was too lazy to get off the bed (Gilda, on the other hand, chose that moment to seek breakfast downstairs). I could fill volumes with my analysis of his analysis of his eight years in office, but I won’t.

I can’t resist, however, pointing out both Bush and Obama have recently voiced their everyman qualities by noting they pick up the poop their dogs leave behind. Too bad we (Americans and other nationalities) have to do clean up for the mistakes they both have made in office.